


BloodCam: Hematoma

by hollo



Series: Blood Trails - BloodCam AU [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ace Keith, Allosexual lance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Cats, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Cutting, Fetish, M/M, Meeting the Family, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Non-Sexual Sadism, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Scars, Self-Harm, Travel, algolagnia, asexual Keith, camshow, haematophilia, life - Freeform, sexual masochism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollo/pseuds/hollo
Summary: ~ part of the Blood Trail - BloodCam AU ~After a year plus together Keith and Lance are living together, and Keith has found himself settling into the rhythm of life as a couple. The future doesn't seem quite as foreboding as it used to, and he finds himself looking forward to the days that will come.But when Lance brings home news that will lead to a trip out west, and a meeting with his family, Keith finds the memories of his past stirring back to the forefront of his mind. There's so much he hasn't shared with Lance yet, and so much he'd rather forget about...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> BACK STREET'S BACK ALL RIGHT
> 
> ...I mean, BloodCam. BloodCam's back.   
> Anyways, the refurbished and improved Hematoma is here! I'll post a timeline in the next chapter so you can figure out how much time has passed since BloodCam the First but for now just know it's been about a year and a few months since the end of BloodCam, right about.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I really want to finish the BC project and I hope I'll be able to do so! 
> 
> You can always find me and find updates at:
> 
> [Itsdetachable on Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsdetachable)  
> OR  
> [JustBloodCamThings on Tumblr](https://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com/)

The less said about that winter, the better.

In some ways, it wasn’t that bad. Christmas was all right, and New Years too. Well, for the most part, if you squinted a bit and ignored the middle quarter of it. There were definitely some highlights to the season.

But there were some things Keith was far more comfortable leaving in the past - even if it was the very, very recent past and even if leaving them there was still a bit difficult since they were fresh on his mind, and even if leaving them there meant never dealing with them and letting them wait in the dark like monsters to reach out and strike at him when he was at his most vulnerable - no, he’d leave them in the past, firmly, put them all behind him as soon as he could, and move on, and hope never to come back to again if he got lucky.

Not that he wasn’t already lucky as it was - lucky that Lance was still around even after everything -

But it didn’t matter. He would force himself to repeat those words in his mind over and over again each time the thoughts and memories came back to harass him -  _ it didn’t matter.  _ Winter was over, and the past was firmly in the  _ past _ , where it belonged. 

There was nothing left to do now, but keep on moving forward.

\-----

Keith had been waiting for spring with eager anticipation. There was a feeling within him that stirred along with nature, as if he was a little plant himself - unfolding eagerly under the first rays of the warm spring sun after winter’s long, and cold, grasp. If he was honest, he’d never much been a fan of winter - or maybe he might’ve been, once upon a time. But the winter season had dug into him over the years, weighed him down with grey skies and wet snow and the same, dreary sights day after day. 

But  _ spring _ \- spring felt like renewal and rebirth, all fresh air and blue skies and the sun - after months of nothing but gray clouds and grayer surroundings,  _ the sun _ . Keith loved the sun, he could feel his batteries recharging the moment he felt the heat of its rays on his face, could feel his mood rise considerably just  _ seeing _ it there, shining across the world and painting everything brighter. 

It made him want to do things again - it made him want to move again, to feel the burn again. He’d slacked over the winter, unable to keep up with his regular running schedule as the days grew colder and his enthusiasm waned. He’d been doing good, too, running nearly every day and even joining Lance at the gym a couple times a week, but routine just fell apart as the cold set in. He just couldn’t force himself to run when he knew it was so cold outside and when the chances of hitting a slush puddle or getting sprayed by a passing car was so high. He barely managed to keep going to the gym, and even that was only thanks to Lance’s insistence on dragging him along. 

In all honesty, he’d gotten very close to shutting down completely, only mustering up the energy to get to work and back and maybe eat. It’d been a while since he’d gotten that bad - a while since he’d had a winter like  _ this _ \- but he wasn’t thinking about that, and he wasn’t thinking about how it could’ve been worse if Lance hadn’t been there. If Lance hadn’t dragged him out or goaded him out, got him out of the house for a walk to the coffee shop or a run at the gym, dinner at Hunk and Shay’s or hanging out with Pidge. He wasn’t thinking about how horrible he’d been at times to the closest person he had, snapping back or arguing with him over the stupidest shit because he just wanted to be left alone and Lance  _ wouldn’t do it _ .

But maybe he was thinking about it, a little, enough so that he could also think about just how grateful he was to his boyfriend for not giving up on him, for caring enough to push him when he needed to be pushed. For always being there for him. 

Look at him, getting sappy that early in the morning. It was disgusting. He snorted a laugh to himself, breathing in the spring scented air.  The previous night had been cold, and when Keith had left for his early morning run the air had still held a chill, but now the sun was out in full force. He’d made several laps around the local park, reveling in the burn of his muscles as he pushed himself further and further. He knew he shouldn’t overdo it, he didn’t want to deal with the cramps and the aches, but it was  _ so hard _ to control himself when he felt that energy surge through him again, making his heart pound in his chest and the grin spread over his face. It didn’t seem to take that much to push a little harder, run a little faster, keep going, going,  _ going _ , until the world became a blur around him and the wind wicked the sweat off his forehead. It had almost been too difficult to leave the park, and if he hadn’t had a good reason to go home he wouldn’t have.

He took a shortcut through an alley as he headed back. The air was cool but the sun’s rays kept him warm enough to keep from feeling chilled as he headed down the asphalt, walking half in the shade of the garages. Their backyard was bordered by a short chainlink fence, broken only where it met the garage that sat at the back corner of the lot, and a crowd of sparrows was currently seated on it, twittering loudly, though they took off in a flurry as he neared. He opened the gate and only just remembered to grab it and gently close it instead of letting the spring slam it closed. He wasn’t quite sure of the time but he wasn’t going to be an ass about that - when it slammed closed, the metal clang could be heard all the way in their living room, and he assumed it was similar for the rest of the house. 

He should’ve headed in right away, maybe, to start breakfast or something. Lance was probably still in bed, sleeping the excitement and emotions of the previous night’s show off like he should be doing, and Keith really should be making breakfast. Omelettes, maybe, because he could make those reliably now. And maybe he could get adventurous and make the hash browns they had sitting in the freezer. All he had to do was toss them on a frying pan - how hard could that be?

His feet led him aside instead, over to where his motorcycle sat covered in a tarp by the wall of the garage. He sat down on the grass there, leaned his back against the covered front wheel and breathed. The air tasted like  _ life _ , like nature in all its glory, tasted like dirt and green things and flowers, and he adored it. He loved spring. Loved the way the grass woke from the winter, seeming almost dried dead until it burst into green life again. Loved the way the early spring flowers pushed their way up through the ground, tumbling the soil off as they spread their leaves and petals to the sun. Loved the way the backyard seemed to come alive in a day -  _ in hours _ \- in one moment dormant and in another so very alive. There had been crocuses dotting the grass near the east-side fence, purple and white, but they’d wilted and died away a few weeks earlier, replaced by bright yellow daffodils and paler narcissus that grew in bunches all along the fence line. One of the tenants had planted several bushes up against the back of the garage, and they were growing fuller with each passing day. One Keith recognized as a gooseberry bush, but the other he couldn’t place - maybe a blackberry or a raspberry. 

Along the west-side fence line there was a thick bed of soil, separated from the yard by the walkway that led to the back gate. The several feet near the end, closest to the gate, were planted with several rose bushes, but a good half of the length of soil was empty, save for some weeds and odd flowers growing here and there. Keith had, on impulse one day, when the sun was bright for one of the first times that year and the crocuses had just started poking up, asked Lance if they were allowed to plant anything themselves. He still remembered Lance’s amused, yet puzzled look as he said they were, that part of that empty plot was there’s to do with as they wanted, if they wanted. It had made Keith’s day, and he felt the same surge of anticipation now when he looked at the empty soil. He wasn’t exactly a gardener, he’d never stayed anywhere long enough to really actually plant things and watch them grow, and the Nevadan desert wasn’t a friend to most green things (it was a miracle he’d kept the tiny sapling he’d found barely scraping by alive as long as he had). He had the chance now, though, to do just that - to fill that little patch of dirt with greenery, with color, to fill it with life. To watch it all grow. 

He was excited.

With a sigh, he let his head fall back as he looked up at the sky. The movement, unfortunately, brought less enjoyable thoughts to mind as the back of his head hit the fender. He winced, though it hadn’t hurt much, but now his thoughts were spinning away from pleasant daydreams of gardening. HIs motorcycle. Half a thought flitted through his mind,  _ he should get rid of it, finally _ , but that brought a pang to his chest and he pushed it away. He should fix it, was what he should do, but that thought was almost as painful. He kept promising himself he would do it, but there’d always be an excuse not to - not to take a better look at it, not to take it into the shop, not to let Hunk take a look at it at the very least, as Lance had insisted  _ so many times _ before giving up. He liked to say he didn’t have the money for the repairs or the parts, or that he didn’t have the time, but in the end it just came back to… nothing.

He should do something with it. It was broken and useless and taking up space and -

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he lowered the hands he hadn’t realized he’d raised to his face to pull it out. 

Lord of the Meows (8.30am): hey 

Lord of the Meows (8.30am): u coming back soon

Keeftus (8.31am): why are you awake

Lord of the Meows (8.32am): too tired to sleep nemore

Lord of the Meows (8.32am): wanna make pancakes

Lord of the Meows (8.32am): r u far??

Keith glanced at the kitchen window from where he sat. 

Keeftus (8.33am): no i’ll be in in a few

Lord of the Meows (8.33am): good

Pancakes sounded amazing. They definitely sounded better than sitting around thinking about his motorcycle. Tucking his phone away again, Keith pushed himself to his feet. His gaze fell to the empty plot again as he walked down the path, and though his mood had been dampened it perked up again at the thought of what he could plant. Flowers, lots of flowers. He wanted just… a whole  _ bursting _ of colors. Everywhere.

He’d focused so strongly on that thought the he almost tripped as something short and furry weaved its way suddenly between his legs, meowing in a familiar warble as it did.

“Feebs?” Keith took a step back, then crouched down to the cats level, grin spreading across his face. The tortie cat looked up at him with a distinct gleam in her amber eyes, meowing again as she stepped closer to butt foreheads with him as he leaned down. “Where have you been, huh?”

Feebs didn’t answer, but Keith didn’t give her much of a chance to do so. Scooping her up into his arms, he held her close and headed for the back door. She seemed utterly unperturbed, tail swinging a few times to tap him on his stomach as she settled in his arms. Keith wanted to squeeze her tight in a hug, he was so happy to see her; they’d gotten her used to staying inside over the winter, but a couple of weeks earlier she’d gone out into the yard with them and disappeared, and they hadn’t seen her since. Lance had been utterly distraught, even though Keith tried to remind him that she’d been a stray for who knows how long and could probably survive a few days outside on her own. That had led to Lance calling him heartless and refusing to talk to him for a whole two days, but despite Keith’s attempts to be brutally optimistic he worried about her too. Fuck, he missed her, like,  _ a lot _ . She’d always be there when he’d get home, and she’d cuddle up with him when he watched tv or was on his laptop. Sometimes she’d sit just outside a doorway and lean over so she could peek at him while he did something in the other room. Sometimes, she was just  _ there _ , and Keith hadn’t realized just how much he appreciated having her around until she was gone. (And that, unfortunately, seemed to be the story of his life).

But now she was back, warm and cuddly and in his arms, and he unlocked the back door as quickly as he could, pushing it open and calling out,

“Lance, I’m back! And I brought you a present!”

Lance wasn’t in the kitchen, but he appeared soon enough, walking down the hall from the living room with a puzzled look on his face. 

“Hey babe, what’s up?” He yawned, obviously not as awake as he had said he was, but then his eyes widened, and with a happy gasp he launched himself across the kitchen.

“FEEBS!” He cried out, grabbing the cat out of Keith’s arms and lifting her over his head. He winced slightly at the quick motion, the action no doubt pulling at his cuts, but didn’t lower Feebs as he grinned up at her. She meowed her warbly meow, tail twitching but otherwise unaffected by the overly dramatic display. “Oh my god you naughty kitty  _ where have you beeeeen _ ?”

He pulled her close then, holding her tight against his chest as he kissed her head and nuzzled his face into her fur, “We were worried _sick_ about you!”  
Keith rolled his eyes as he walked over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, though he grinned at the display. It was adorable, the way Lance was so happy to see her, the way Feebs was just taking it all in stride. Keith didn’t know how they got blessed with such a relaxed and amiable rag doll of a cat but they did.

“Maybe if we make you a catio you won’t be so eager to get out,” Lance was saying as Keith opened the fridge door, his voice raising after a moment, “Keith! We need to build a catio. Do you think the landlord would let us put one in the backyard? Like, maybe attached to the window so Feebs can go out whenever she wants?”

“A what?” Keith asked, opening the bottle of water, the word sounding foreign to him even though he  _ knew _ he knew it. He thought he knew what it was.

“A catio. You know,” Lance said, turning to him, eyebrow raised as he shot him an expectant look, “A cat patio?”

Keith thought a moment as he drank from the bottle, his mind flitting over several images until it settled on one, and after he’d swallowed and wiped his lips with his hand he answered, “One of those outdoor cat… boxes?”

Lance stared at him with an incredulous look that was quickly turning horribly amused, and before Keith knew it he was laughing, leaning back against the counter and rocking Feebs in his arms as he did so.

“Yes, yes,” Lance forced between chuckles, “An outdoor cat box.”

Feebs half-meowed in protest when Lance dropped his face against her and laughed into her fur, struggling a little against the movement. 

“I know what you’re talking about,” Keith huffed, setting the water bottle on the counter and shooting a glare Lance’s way. It didn’t really work, considering Lance was still smothering his laughter in Feebs’s side, but it was better than nothing.

“I know,” Lance wheezed finally, straightening up. Feebs took the opportunity as his arms loosened around her to hop out of his grasp and onto the counter. They were supposed to have a no-cats-on-the-counter rule but it was  _ Feebs _ and they didn’t have the ability to say no to her on things like that, so she just plopped herself right down and started putting her fur back in order. 

“It’s just… outdoor cat box…” Lance grinned over at Keith, eyes still wrinkling with mirth.

“That’s what it is!” Keith said, crossing his arms and shooting Lance a dirty look as if daring him to prove him wrong. Okay, so he was being a little  _ literal _ with the description, whatever.

“A big box for a cat that goes outside, yes, I mean technically you’re not wrong,” Lance snickered, and then seeing that Keith was still glaring at him he sighed and held out his arms. Keith tried to hold out, just a little bit, but despite the teasing he was a weak man in the face of cuddles from his boyfriend, and he ended up walking over to give Lance a hug anyway. He  _ did _ keep his arms crossed and a frown on his face all five steps of the way over, though, just to show Lance he was not amused by the teasing, not one bit.

“You don’t want to hug me right now, I stink,” Keith said, even as Lance put his arms around his waist and tugged him closer. He knew he had sweated a ton out there, he’d spent so long overexerting himself out in the sun, and even if Lance didn’t seem to mind him being sweaty it still made Keith feel like he was dirty. “I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Mmm,” Lance nestled his face into Keith’s neck, arms wrapped tight around him. “I like how you smell after you go running outside, like… you smell like, like  _ air _ .”

“Like...air.” Keith said evenly, and Lance “mm-hmed” in response. It was almost criminal how well he fit in the circle of Keith’s arms, like he was made to be there. Keith pressed his cheek to Lance’s and rubbed a hand along his back. “You, the guy who just made fun of me for saying “outdoor cat box”-”

“I didn’t  _ make fun of you _ I just  _ teased _ you a bit-” Lance protested, his voice muffled against Keith’s skin.

“-”smell like air”.” Keith repeated back at him. Lance pulled back to fix him with a frown, brows furrowed, and while Keith wanted to grin at how adorable he looked he managed to keep a straight face as he asked evenly, “What does ‘air’ smell like, exactly?”

“It’s not - it’s not the air,” Lance let out a frustrated noise, giving Keith a shove, not hard enough to actually move him but  _ just enough _ . “It’s like, you and the wind and the… whatever. I don’t know, okay. You just smell good after a run outside.”

Keith knew what Lance was talking about, at least he was pretty sure he did. That sort of almost-ozone-like scent that tagged along after a good run outside, especially when the wind was blowing and the weather was nice. Lance carried it home with him too, when they went for a run at the park together, and Keith thought it suited him. He’d never be bold enough to say it, though, not like Lance, and he’d sure as hell never be bold enough to just pull him close and take a huge whiff of his scent like a weirdo. 

“You wanted to make pancakes, right?” Keith asked, eager to change the subject and even more eager to change out of his sweat-damp clothes. Lance’s eyes brightened, and he nodded eagerly. “I’m going to take a shower and then I can give you a hand.”

“Ugh, fine,” Lance said, pulling Keith in for one more hug and a peck on the cheek before letting him pull away. He slapped him on the butt as Keith turned to go, grinning., “Hurry up then, i’m  _ starving _ .”

Keith rolled his eyes before sticking his tongue out at him, petting Feebs on the head as he passed on his way to the bathroom.

  
  


\---

Friday night and Keith was sitting on the couch, cat in his lap and laptop on the coffee table, the lights dimmed and the sky dark outside. By all accounts, a standard end to the week, but an end he looked forward to nevertheless.

A  _ happy end _ , Lance would no doubt say, accompanied by wiggled eyebrows and a cheeky grin, if he’d been listening in on Keith’s thoughts. 

Lance was, however, _otherwise_ _occupied_ , as evidenced by the rolling chat log. Keith had stopped trying to keep up with it long ago - though he’d been participating in the chat less and less over the past several months. It didn’t seem quite that important, now that he could deliver his feedback directly to the source. 

The only person he’d bothered really keeping up with was  **PrincipessaDeLeone** \- she was funny and chatty and almost as besotted with Lance as he was and he got a kick out of talking with her. At least, he did when he wasn’t too engrossed with the show itself. Which wasn’t that often if he was honest. It was hard for him NOT to get caught up in the show, not when he knew how it felt to pull those blades over that skin, knew what it was like to hear Lance’s breath catch at that first cut, knew how it felt to brush a hand across those cuts and feel the blood cool on his fingertips-

And there he was again, distracted from answering  **PrincipessaDeLeone** ’s message by the sight of Lance carelessly dropping the serrated blade he’d just been using and picking up another knife - The Knife. THAT knife, with the wooden handle and the lovingly sharpened blade. He held it up to the camera, letting the light dance along the sharp edge as he tilted it. 

“I know this is what you’re waiting for…” And his voice was distorted by the mask but it didn’t matter at all because Keith could  _ feel _ the tone of his words and the way his voice had dropped and he was holding  _ the knife _ and it was doing all sorts of things to him. He was already getting antsy because of the show, feeling all fluttery beneath his skin like there was a whole bunch of moths super anxious to burst out from under it, but then Lance had to go and draw the blade across the front of his mask, and mime blowing a kiss at the camera, tilting his head in that adorable way he did, and Keith sorta hated him and loved him for it at the same time.

Keith  _ knew _ Lance knew just how hard it hit him, the head tilt and that stupid blown kiss, because he’d been stupid enough to blurt it out during a period of  _ lowered inhibitions _ . And he would’ve been pissed about it, but he was a little too distracted with the way Lance was dragging the tip of the knife across his chest right then. It dragged through lines of half-dried blood and caught against the edges of the cuts littering his pecs, setting them beading up with blood again. It was ridiculously hot, and Keith didn’t know how Lance managed it. Somehow he managed to one-up himself every single week, over and over and over again.

The cuts, arranged so aesthetically, the blood streaking slowly across dusky dark skin - it was gorgeous,  _ Lance _ was gorgeous - and Keith, Keith was still as captivated by him and the show and  _ everything _ as he was the first time he saw it. He’d thought that he’d get used to it all eventually - that once he got to know Lance and once he saw the show enough times that it would all become ordinary, a new normal - that he’d get  _ used _ to it.

But he hadn’t; as Lance dragged that knife tip down across his stomach, belly tensed and abs highlighted perfectly, Keith could feel that same admiration he always did, that  _ captivation _ that drew him in and wouldn’t let him go. Anticipation welled up again inside him, like it always did, hot and shuddery, and he just wanted to be in there, with him, to watch and to touch and to feel the heat of Lance’s skin and run his hands all over him. He wanted to feel the cuts and blood and he wanted to make Lance shudder and gasp and he wanted to enjoy every moment of it with him.

He curled up tighter on the couch instead, raising Feebs to his chest so she wouldn’t get squished by his knees, and watched with finger caught between his teeth, with his whole body fired up and his head reeling, as Lance drew the knife back up to his left side and - deceptively gentle - dug the tip in, and slowly - slowly - Keith’s whole body was racing with some unefinable emotion -  _ slowly _ cut the shape of a heart.

And then, because Keith hadn’t apparently suffered enough yet, Lance put the knife tip back to his skin and carefully cut out the outline of another heart, intersecting the first. His blood welled up, glittered like jewels, like the hearts were lined with rubies, and Keith wanted to cry because he didn’t know how else to  _ experience _ what he was experiencing right then.

He kind of hated Lance for making him feel like this, for constantly finding some way to make him  _ feel _ so much harder and so much more than he ever had - and he’d felt a lot in his life, a lot of pain and a lot of anger and a lot of sadness - but he hadn’t felt  _ this _ quite like...well,  _ this _ before. Hadn’t felt the yearning and the appreciation and the need and the joy of - hadn’t quite felt  _ love _ all that much before and certainly never as strongly as he did right then, right now, with Lance delicately drawing a finger across the hearts and filling them with red-red-red-

-Keith felt too much a lot, sometimes, but he thought that right then, with his heart beating fast and pulse pounding in his veins, whole body awash in emotion so deep it was sure to wreck him completely before the night was through - he thought that this time, it wasn’t all that bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hematoma Continues to Live!  
> Thanks so much to everyone for coming back, reading and subscribing. I appreciate and love each and every one of you, and I hope that what I have coming will keep you engaged and entertained. 
> 
> We're going to get to the good stuff soon now (this was the last scene from the previous iteration), and longer chapters are in the works! I'm super excited to be getting this out into the world and I hope you'll continue to stick around for the new ride.
> 
> Find me at:  
> [JustBloodCamThings on Tumblr (at least as long as Tumblr doesn't kill it)](http://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com)  
> [JustBloodCamThings community on Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/community/JustBloodCamThings)  
> [Twitter all updated tagged #BloodCamFic](https://twitter.com/itsdetachable)

The bright spring sun of a few days earlier had disappeared, to be replaced with gray skies and an endless drizzle. Everything was wet, everything was muted, and it felt like the whole world was made up of a constant buzz of white noise. 

Keith didn't even mind the rain that much, even if he got annoyed at the drivers who'd forgotten how to drive or the puddles that gathered in the parking lot at work that he occasionally missed avoiding. His year in the desert had made him appreciate rain in a way he never had before. It came so rarely out of season out there - and he could still remember the taste of it, the first time it had rained on him in the desert. Could remember the way the air changed, became charged with an energy he'd never felt before quite that strongly before that day. It was like every rainstorm he'd ever experienced growing up was coming upon him at once, building up within the clouds that gathered on the horizon until they were all he could see. He'd been on a several day trip out into some sandstone caverns - he hadn't thought much of the danger, back then, hadn’t had the clarity of mind for it, back then - when the wind roared through the caverns and the clouds billowed across the sky. He missed the first bolt of lightning, but the thunder that cracked and echoed its way down the winding trail he’d been on had shook the ground beneath his feet, the walls on either side of him, made the very air feel like it was solid and rattling him around.

He’d stood shocked into stillness, eyes cast upwards towards the slim slice of sky he could see above the cavern wall as clouds billowed above. 

And then the rain came, chasing away the dry heat and soaking him to the bone, washing away the dust and grime from his skin and - and for the first time in a long while, he’d felt like he could  _ see _ again.

This rain was different; there was no clarity to be found, no awakening, no realization - just a steady near-mist of humidity and lines of traffic and a gray wash over everything he saw, muddling his mind and dulling his senses. 

He couldn't remember work, the calls he’d made or the people he’d talked to. He couldn't remember the drives had made that day, not in any detail. The memories settled in at the back of his mind, fading fast and barely recognizable already - he longed for the crack of thunder and a proper downpour, something that would  _ move _ him again, make him feel something again. 

What he got instead was slick roads and foggy skies and droplets on his windshield that merged and ran in dizzying patterns that made his head spin. 

He should get inside, he realized. He was so absolutely done with the world that day that he had half a mind to just stay in the car for the rest of for-fucking-ever. But he should get inside - if for nothing more than because Lance would lose it if he didn’t, and he didn’t want to have that on his conscience. 

Somehow he’d found a parking spot somewhat near the apartment, he thought, though between the weather and the mess in his head he was having a hard time recognizing the neighborhood. Things got a little clearer when he got out of the car, the houses becoming more recognizable once he got that damn windshield out of his sight. Bracing himself against the double-whammy of chilly wind and even chillier drizzle, he dashed down the sidewalk to get to the front door. Like the idiot he was that day, he’d forgotten his umbrella at work. His hair was soaked by the time he got down the steps and plastered to his face, his jacket slick with water, his skin chilled, and he grumbled to himself as he fumbled with his keys, pissed at the fucking rain and the fucking sky and the fucking drivers who didn't know how to go above 5 miles per hour -

The door finally opened and he was hit with a blast of pleasantly warm air as he stepped inside. Toeing his shoes off, he kicked them onto the mat by the door, making a half-hearted effort to stand them up in some semblance of order so he wouldn’t have to hear Lance complain about it later, and headed into the living room. Tossing his jacket on the back of a chair he brushed his hair back from his face, taking a look around the room. The TV was on, and Feebs was loafed on the DVR, eyeing him curiously as he approached her. Meowing in greeting, she leaned her head out to let him pet her.

“Hey Keith!” 

Keith barely managed to turn before getting swept up into a crushing hug. He grimaced, just slightly putt off by the unexpected and overwhelming physical show of affection so soon after having gotten inside. He wasn’t feeling it that day, but that wasn’t Lance’s fault, so he let his boyfriend hug him all he wanted, freeing his arms enough to loop them around Lance's shoulders in a sorry attempt to hug him back.

“Hey,” He replied finally, looking Lance over critically. “I was going to say you look pretty dry for a rainy day, but…”

He patted Lance's wet hair and Lance chuckled, kissing him on the cheek and then nuzzling his face into Keith's neck his nose cold.

“You're so warm,” He said, clinging closer to Keith and sliding his shockingly cold hands under the back of his shirt.

“Shit, Lance,” Keith jolted at the feeling, “How long were you out there?”

“Not long, it’s just that I just got back...” Lance replied, sighing contentedly against Keith's neck. He was a dirty liar; Keith could feel just how chilled his skin was even through the material of his shirt. He wondered if he even wore a jacket this time or if he just changed his clothes when he got back inside, like he usually did. 

“You're gonna get sick one of these days,” Keith muttered back, pulling Lance in closer to try and warm him up. The idiot was gonna get pneumonia or something and then what were they going to do?

“Sure,” Lance chuckled, and Keith could feel him roll his eyes even if he couldn’t see it. “How was work?”

“Fine,” Keith said with a sigh. His brain was a mudpool and his thoughts could barely slog their way through it. “I think i need a nap.”

“You should eat something first, you just got home,” Lance pulled back to kiss Keith on the cheek.Keith grunted in response, frowning as Lance disentangled himself. He didn’t even want to think about food right then.

“Don’t pout,” Lance patted Keith’s cheeks, grinning at him warmly, “Go sit down a bit, I’ll get you something.”

“Fine,” Keith sighed as Lance gave him a push towards the couch. He dragged himself over while Lance headed towards the hallway, slouching onto the couch.

“Oh, I used your laptop today! My battery died and I couldn’t find my charger.”

“That’s cool,” Keith called back, eyeing his laptop where it lay, closed, on the coffee table. 

“You had Facebook up,” Lance said, voice muffled by the distance. Keith frowned down at the laptop.

“Why?”

“What?”

Keith made the effort to raise his voice, “Why!”

“I don’t know Keith, it’s your laptop!” Lance appeared in the hallway, hands on his hips. “And don’t give me that look, I didn’t go on it  _ myself _ , it was already open.”

Keith couldn’t remember going on Facebook, but he vaguely remembered Pidge sending him a link the night before, so maybe? It happened occasionally…

“The only reason I’m telling you is because there was a message on there from someone named Lakeila?” 

The name sent a prickle running across Keith’s skin, dragging him out of his sluggish stupor so suddenly and forcefully he could feel the metaphorical whiplash. The breath caught in his throat, sharp clawed and painful, as his brain hiccupped trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. His eyes shot to Lance; he didn’t know what the expression on his face was but it must’ve been bad because Lance’s face fell immediately, worry rising in his eyes.

“I didn’t read it - I swear! - I just saw it,” Lance continued hurriedly, misreading whatever it was he saw on Keith’s face. 

Keith shook his head -“From-” his voice broke a little, “From who?”

“Lakeila?” 

_ Lakeila _ , his head echoed - but -

-but it couldn’t, there was no way it could -

“Uh, Keith?”

Keith blinked, eyes refocusing on Lance. The worry had grown more apparent in his eyes, and he took a few steps into the room, “Something wrong?”

“No,” Keith said quietly, eyes falling back to the closed laptop on the table. 

  
“It’s nothing.”

-

  
  


It was going to be a bad day.

Keith could feel it in the heaviness in his bones and the fog in his head. His alarm was going off, phone buzzing on the bedside cabinet but he couldn’t find the energy to move to turn it off. He stared at it, the screen lighting up in time with the buzzing, for… he wasn’t sure how long. Long enough to start waking Lance, at the very least, who grunted as he attempted to bury his face in Keith’s side. That finally got Keith to move, to lift his hand and slide the phone closer so he could swipe the alarm off.

The room went dark again as the screen shut off, and Keith was left looking up at the ceiling he couldn’t see. With a sigh that seemed to resonate down to his core, he tried to move from the bed. Slowly, he worked to get his arm from under Lance’s neck, trying not to wake him any more, but Lance only pushed himself closer. 

“Lance,” Keith said softly, “I gotta go.”

Lance tucked himself in closer to his side, one arm flopping loosely over his waist. Keith lay back for another moment, his head feeling like it was running on below its lowest speed setting. He let himself breathe a few times, staring into nothingness as the fuzz in his head waxed and waned. He felt like he was cotton balls wrapped in cellophane, felt boneless and stiff, yet still he tried again, pulling his arm from under Lance and twisting onto his side on the bed.

“Keee….” Lance let out a whine that was  _ almost _ his name, the arm he had slung across Keith’s waist tightening around him. Keith groaned, sinking back into the bed as any lingering energy he might’ve had drained out of him. It was really fucking difficult to resist the urge to just… stay in bed with Lance. Cuddle for a while and just let time pass and not do anything. Especially when Lance pulled himself closer once more, his fingers tightening in Keith’s shirt as he buried his face in Keith’s back.

“Where’re you goin’?” Lance muttered groggily into his back. 

“Work.” Keith replied with a sigh, his eyes already sliding closed.

“No.” Lance said, and though he still sounded half-asleep his tone was firm, like he expected no resistance.

“They’re kind of expecting me to be there,” Keith muttered, but he didn’t have the will to fight anymore. He just wanted to sleep. Forever, if possible, as long as Lance was right there next to him.

“You’re sick,” Lance said, making a half-assed effort to raise his hand to Keith’s face and only managing to flail it around and slap him on the cheek instead. “You got a temperature, burning up. Doctor says you stay home…”

“What doctor?”

“Me doctor.”

Keith snorted a little at the bad grammar, but the thought was tempting. Very tempting, and he couldn’t find any reason to fight against it.

“Okay.”

.

Keith didn’t get up until… well, he didn’t know when. He’d spent an indeterminate amount of time staring at the window, the covers pulled up to his chin and wrapped tight around him. One of the weighted blankets Lance had gotten him for Christmas was at the side of the bed, tucked partially under it so that it was always on hand, but he hadn’t been able to summon the energy to get it. It had been easier to just roll around until the covers wound tight around him. 

He finally gathered the energy to disentangle himself and lift himself to sit on the bed. His body felt oddly weightless yet heavy, a flutter in his joints and spreading through his muscles as if they couldn’t decide what they wanted to do - fall apart or move or just fall back to the ground. He couldn’t think, really. His mind was a blur, not like it was blurring at that moment, but like it had blurred during the night, something coming through like an egg beater and leaving a mess in its wake that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. His grey matter felt splattered.

“Morning sleepy head,” Lance called from the doorway. Keith squinted over at him, surprised to find him already dressed. He grunted a response, unable to form words just yet - fuck he was tired - and Lance walked over to him, “Aw baby, rough day?”

“Kind of I guess,” Keith admitted, his voice hoarse. His head felt heavier than it had earlier, he felt so far away from everything.

“Is that why you stayed home?” Lance asked, coming to a stop in front of him and leaning over to kiss his forehead.

“I would’ve gone in,” Keith replied, speaking slowly, his brow furrowing as he glared up at Lance, “But  _ someone _ didn’t want to let me go.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Lance huffed, grinning as he began to run his fingers through Keith's hair. Keith closed his eyes, savoring the soothing feeling. He could fall asleep right then and there - except that Lance’s fingers caught in his hair suddenly, sharply.

“Ugh, you have so many tangles…” Lance muttered, and Keith opened his eyes reluctantly as Lance pulled his hands away. Lance was eyeing him with a grin as he asked, “Want me to brush them out for you?”

Keith nodded, waited on the bed while Lance left the room to get the brush. Everything seemed very faded that day, very far away and indistinct. He thought, maybe, he should be irritated by it - it was becoming readily apparent this was definitely one of his  _ bad days _ \- but he didn’t have the energy to get irritated. He barely had the energy to keep sitting there and waiting for Lance to return. 

“All right, let’s take care of those tangles!” Lance called cheerfully as he returned, the brush lofted high in his hand like it was a trophy or something. He climbed onto the bed, seating himself behind Keith with his legs spread on either side of him. Keith sighed as the brush began running through his hair, Lance humming a soft tune as he slowly worked out the tangles that had formed while he slept.

“Hey, baby?” Lance asked after a while, and it took Keith a moment to realize that he had spoken at all.

“Yeah?”

“You doing okay?” Lance asked softly, but then added in hurriedly, “I mean, like, other than right now when you feel crappy but like, just in general…”

“I guess,” Keith replied noncommittally. He hadn’t really been thinking about it but he thought he was fine. Sure, he was having a weird detached day right then but it wasn’t like that all the time. He got shit done. He went to work. He had fun doing things and being around Lance and hanging out with Pidge. He was doing okay.

“Nothing’s bothering you?”

A flutter ran through Keith’s center at that question, thoughts rising unbidden, sluggishly, from the back of his head. He couldn’t focus on them though, his head not running with enough power, and they just milled round his brain, rolling around in the blurry mess of it, nearly formed but incoherent. 

“No?” He answered, frowning. There were no more tangles in his hair but Lance kept brushing with long, smooth strokes that felt so soothing and good. “Why?”

“You’ve just been kind of distant the last few weeks.” Lance said evenly.

Keith half-turned to him, “I have?”

He couldn’t remember that. He thought he was doing good.

“Only a bit, not in a bad way,” Lance said reassuringly, placing the brush aside on the bed. He leaned forward and looped his arms around Keith’s waist, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “Just a bit. I thought you might be worrying about something, you sort of… hold stuff in sometimes.”

Keith grunted, but he couldn’t argue with that. It was true, after all, he wasn’t the most communicative about anything. There wasn’t really anything bothering him, though, nothing that would really weigh on his mind heavily enough to bother him - 

“Is it the trip?”

\- except the trip, maybe. Maybe something else. Maybe too much of the mixing of the two. 

The flutter that had woken inside of him earlier ran through him again, those cloudy thoughts at the edge of his mind beginning to coalesce into something tangible. He looked down, at the wood floor and the dusky green area rug and tried to keep his head from getting away from him.

“It’s not that,” Keith said quietly, but a prickle of anxiety was running down his spine. He wasn’t worried, anymore, not in a real way but there was that low-lying feeling that he wouldn’t be enough, that he’d mess up, that  _ something would go wrong and he might be the fault of it _ and - his chest fluttered - it had before  _ he’d been the source of all those messes before _ \- he pulled at Lance’s arms to wrap them around himself closer as if that would help him find stability. Lance understood his unspoken request, shifting closer to him and wrapping one arm tight around his waist and the other across his chest, pulling him close to himself until Keith could feel the warmth of Lance’s chest against his back.

“It is about the trip,” Lance murmured, softly, but he didn’t sound irritated.

“It’s not,” Keith retorted, but Lance only hummed in response, pressing a gentle kiss to Keith’s neck.

“We’ll talk about it, but later,” Lance said decidedly, “When you’re not feeling so crappy.”

Keith didn’t want to talk about it, when had words ever helped him before? And how would he even explain it all to Lance? Why would he want to talk about any of it if ignoring it all was so much easier...

“You going to work soon?” He asked after a moment, wondering dimly what time it was.

“Yeah,” Lance sighed, “I’d rather stay home with you.”

Keith would rather he stay as well, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well. Managers had changed at Lance’s job, and the new guy in charge was much more of a stickler for timeliness and routine shifts than the previous one.

“Take the car,” Keith said, patting Lance’s hand. “And don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

And he meant it, too. He’d fight back the trembling at his center and the shakiness of his thoughts and he’d be okay. He always was. Just because he still got a bit worried about the trip, just because he’d been having dreams he rather wouldn’t have lately, just because there were things that could knock him off center sometimes - just because - he’d be okay. He’d be okay.

“All right,” Lance said with a sigh, not sounding convinced at all. He squeezed Keith tight one more time, kissing his cheek as he got up. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“All right.”

“And I’ll call you on my break.”

“Okay.”

“But don’t worry if you don’t feel like picking up I won’t get mad.”

“I’ll pick up.”

“I’m just saying that it’s okay if you don-”

“Go to work, Lance…” Keith called, rolling his eyes as he fell back onto the bed. He heard Lance moving through the apartment, the sound of him grabbing his keys from the counter and his footsteps fading down the hallway, before his voice echoed back,

“Love you!” 

“Love you too.”

.

Keith managed to drag himself out of bed sometime around one. He took care of necessities and ended up in the kitchen, looking listlessly around the space for something to do. He was vaguely hungry, and he could see that Lance had left a covered plate out for him with a post it on it (a little heart with a smiley face), but though he was hungry he just… didn’t want to eat. Not really.

He set the kettle on the stove instead, hoping that maybe tea could help wake him up or something. He felt like… like he should be  _ doing _ something, but he didn’t know what. He should’ve gone to work, forced himself through the drudgery, at least that would have kept him in motion but this - this listless lying around, this lack of energy, this lack of drive, was making him just… even more listless, was bleeding any sort of energy and drive he had left out of him bit by bit. He needed to get moving, needed to  _ do  _ something, needed to-

Pay attention to the low pinging that suddenly broke its way through his thoughts and the odd metallic-burning scent that reached his nose. 

“Shit,” He spun, wobbled, around to stare at the stove, delaying half a second before slapping one hand to the burner control and the other to the tea kettle’s handle. The burner went out, and the handle  _ burned _ , the excess heat from the body of the kettle having heated it as well.

“SHIT.” He shoved the kettle to a cool burner, only realizing then that it was empty of water. Cursing under his breath he hurried to the sink and turned the cold tap, letting the cool water run over his hand. He didn’t think it would leave a mark, but it stung enough to knock him a bit out of his lethargy.

Not enough to become useful. Just enough to become irritated with his own state of being at the moment, too useless to even boil a kettle of water, too tired to eat. He glared down at his hand under the water, biting his lip to keep his voice from exploding in a burst of curses. 

He remembered a time when he could manage being alone, when he only had himself to rely on and no one else. He spent a year on the fringes of civilization, he reminded himself bitterly, and he  _ managed _ . He managed to eat and he managed to work and he managed to  _ survive _ . He managed, he told himself, but his memories knew better, knew all about the days spent watching the line of the sun move across the floor until night fell, knew all about the nights spent wandering the chilled desert plain until his legs gave out under the spread of the Milky Way above, knew all about putting off supply runs until only one water bottle, one can of food, remained and biting back the pain of actually  _ doing _ he’d force himself to enter the town. There was never anyone there, no other voice in the cabin, no presence following him when he wandered. He’d been completely, and utterly alone.

A bit like he was right then, with the apartment so big and so empty, with the silence pressing in on his head with white noise. He closed his eyes, his hand going numb under the icy spray of water, and he could almost imagine himself back there, centered in an expanse of dust and sand. 

“I can do this,” He whispered to himself, not quite sure what  _ this _ he meant but certain all the same. 

“I can  _ do this _ .” He said, and turned the tap off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think in a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to add the next scene to the end of this one, but then I realized I needed THAT scene to connect to the scene AFTER it more than I needed these scenes to connect to that one. Confusing, I know.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy! I'm very sorry for the long wait, it's a long mix of hating christmas, winter kicking my ass and a weird energetic kick-in-the-pants to get my art spaces cleaned up and organized that had set me back a bit. But I have been writing in my physical writing journal and the next scenes are drafted so I'm hoping that the next update will be along sooner than this one was.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around, and thank you for all the support. BloodCam seriously has the best fans that exist, and I appreciate each and every one of you.
> 
> Find me at:  
> [JustBloodCamThings on Tumblr ](http://justbloodcamthings.tumblr.com)  
> [JustBloodCamThings community on Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/community/JustBloodCamThings)  
> [Twitter all updated tagged #BloodCamFic](https://twitter.com/itsdetachable)

“Keith.”

Keith knew that tone. He knew it well enough that his shoulders tensed and his eyes locked onto the words of the book in his hands despite the fact that he was no longer seeing them. He could  _ feel  _ Lance enter the living room, like he was projecting some sort of angry aura ahead of him, and stubbornly kept his eyes glued to the page.

“Yeah?” He asked flatly, trying not to sound as tense as he felt. Somewhere at the back of his head he was going over emergency escape procedures - Lance had shifted the layout of the living room _again_ just the day before but he was pretty sure he’d got it mapped out in his head well enough - he might be able to make a swift exit around the coffee table to the hallway if he had to but only _after_ Lance moved closer to give him enough space to maneuver-

“Why is my brand new papaya face mask almost dried out?” Lance asked, sounding so much closer now, and that  _ tone  _ \- fuck but he was  _ pissed _ . 

Keith refused to look up from his book, eyes boring holes into the pages, defensive hackles raising as he answered with a rough, “I don't know.” 

That was a lie. He  _ did know _ .

“You don't know,” Lance said with that pause between each word that made them sound  _ ominous _ , and Keith could imagine he was holding up the container as he spoke, maybe motioning in Keith's direction with it for emphasis, “You don't know how the lid wasn't put back on after  _ someone _ opened the container?”

“I don't know what you're talking about Lance,” Keith replied again, maybe his shoulders curled a little, tiniest bit as he tried not to sound absolutely guilty. It was a sad and sorry attempt - he'd always been a horrible liar and Lance knew him too well now to not be able to see right through him. To be fair, Keith hadn't MEANT to leave the top open - and it couldn’t have been  _ fully _ open just, just a bit unscrewed  _ at most _ so it couldn’t have been  _ completely _ dried out, Lance had to be exaggerating (as usual). But he really hand’t meant to, sometimes his brain just made him  _ do  _ things. It’d been early that morning while he was getting ready for work, and the word PAPAYA was printed all big and bright on the container like it was  _ meant _ to catch his eye and for some reason, he just really wanted to see if it smelled like real papaya. You couldn’t just slap capital letters in glaring orange IMPACT font on a container and  _ not  _ expect someone to be tempted by them.

But Keith didn’t think that explanation was going to win Lance over, so instead he opted for damage control...of a sort.

“You know I don't like that stuff,” He argued, finally daring to glance over at Lance. And yeah, that was a pissed off Lance, container gripped in his hand and pointed at Keith accusatorially and eyes practically blazing - and his face was darkening even more with every word Keith said. “It feels disgusting, why would I be messing around it?”

He might've fucked up just a little bit, he admitted quietly to himself. Lance took his products  _ seriously _ and Keith  _ knew that _ \- even if he didn’t understand it. 

“Yeah well you will be messing around with it!” Lance retorted, shaking the container at him, then paused, looking slightly confused by his own words, before shaking his head and refocusing that glare on Keith, “When-when I put it on your face! As payback! And also because it will do your skin good!”

“Lance, what’re you - stop!” Keith started as Lance suddenly launched in his direction, unscrewing the container as he went. Toossing the book aside, Keith tried to push off the couch but Lance was  _ fast _ when he wanted to be, and he threw himself at Keith as soon as he moved, shoving him back against the couch. With a delighted and just a little evil smile, Lance scooped some of the face mask goop from the container.

“Stop it!” Keith growled, trying to grab Lance's arms and keep his hands away from his face. He was  _ not _ going to let that stuff touch him - it was horrible and slimy and radioactive peach colored and Keith didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

“No, you’re going to experience the clarifying and nourishing effects of papaya and you’re going to  _ love it! _ ” Lance grunted as he struggled against Keith’s hold, straddling his lap and leaning his full weight forward, his grin fading into an intense look of concentration. His fingers, coated in the melted-and-congealed-colby-jack-goop hovered distressingly closer to Keith’s face by the second, despites Keith’s best efforts.

“I don't want it,” Keith didn’t know how Lance had suddenly gotten strong enough to wrestle his arms back like that, it must’ve been the adrenaline, but he was suddenly on the losing side, that delightfully smelling but disgusting looking shit creeping closer and closer, “You can't make me-!”

“I can,” Lance grunted, finally swiping some of it across Keith’s cheek, “And I will! We have that aquarium party to go to and you are going to look  _ fabulous _ for it! And that includes your pores!”

Keith couldn’t repress the full body shudder that came over him when the cream met his face - listen, he could handle regular cream, but this face mask shit felt like somewhere between runny egg yolk and those slimes from the slime container toys and it was  _ horrible _ . He glared at Lance, eyebrows furrowing, as he tried to make sense of what Lance had just said.

“The  _ what _ ?” 

Lance sighed and rolled his eyes, knocking Keith’s hands out of the way so he could smear more of the face mask on his face.

“The aquarium after-hours party? That Plaxum and Florona invited us to like three weeks ago?” Lance pursed his lips, looking slightly disappointed. “Remember? You said you’d go with me?”

Keith didn’t remember, really, and he was suddenly in a very horrible mood courtesy of the disgusting shit on his face making his skin crawl, but he hated seeing Lance looking that disappointed a bit more than he liked wallowing in his current misery.

“Yeah, I remember now,” Keith said grudgingly, “When is it again?”

“Thursday night,” Lance grinned, getting back to the face mask. “We gotta look good, sweetheart, there’s gonna be a ton of people there.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Even that LARP guy that you like talking to is gonna go.”

“Yay.”

Lance rolled his eyes, huffing a breath out, “Yeah, don’t get too excited about it.”

Keith watched Lance for a moment, at how focused he was on smearing that face mask over Keith’s face, before an idea came to him that made him grin.

“Okay,” He said.

“Okay what?” Lance asked, looking at him with suspicion.

“I’ll do this face mask shit today,” Keith said, grin growing wider, “But you’re going to go running with me tomorrow.”

Lance laughed dismissively, “Yeah, sure.”

“I mean it,” Keith said, eyes growing hard as he grabbed at Lance’s wrists. “You want me to do this, you’re gonna go running with me - _and_ you’re going to have to keep up with me.”

Lance balked at that, looking both shocked and dismayed for a moment.

“Unless you’re scared that you won’t be able to?”

“Uh, excuse me?” 

“You heard me. That’s fine,” Keith said with a shrug, “I know it’s intimidating running with me, considering how good I am at it.”

And there went that dismayed look, wiped off of Lance’s face to be replaced with grim determination and no little amount of insult.

“Oh, we’ll see about that  _ tomorrow _ ,” Lance growled, applying the face mask to Keith’s just a tad bit harsher than he should’ve been, probably.

Keith suffered through it without comment - he’d get his payback tomorrow.

-

So maybe he was getting more enjoyment out of watching Lance suffer than he should’ve been - maybe. But seeing Lance get so pissed off from continually falling behind was damn entertaining.

“We are NOT doing another lap around the park,” Lance huffed and puffed, hands on his knees and a murderous look in his eyes.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Keith said with a grin. 

The weather was great that afternoon, nice and sunny and reaching just a hair past fifty-five degrees, a cool wind wafting gently now and then and cooling the sweat at the back of Keith's neck. After the cold and rainy spell the week before it was absolutely rejuvenating to be running outside in the sun again. Well, it was for Keith - Lance probably would’ve preferred a casual stroll instead of the laps they'd done. 

To be completely honest, Keith might've been pushing Lance a little harder than he should;ve; his boyfriend didn't have the stamina or the speed to keep up with him and he knew it. But Lance was just  _ so competitive _ sometimes, and it made Keith competitive too. How could he not get competitive when Lance was trying to prove to him that  _ he _ was the better runner, all while huffing and puffing several paces behind him. And okay, so Keith didn't  _ have _ to pick up the speed when Lance had said that he might be slower but he had prettier legs, but by that point it was  _ the principle of the matter _ and Keith wasn't going to let it slide just because he loved the guy (and agreed with him). This was something Keith was good at and he was going to enjoy being good at it, dammit.

Now, after all was said and done though, he felt a little bad at just how hard he’d pushed Lance. His boyfriend looked about as wrecked as you can look after, what was it, over an hour of almost non-stop running? Sweat beading on his forehead, the sleeves of his hoodie - scratch that,  _ Keith’s  _ hoodie that he took without even asking - starting to droop from where he’d pushed them up to his elbows adding to his over-all worn out look. He winced as he straightened up, taking a few steps forward gingerly.

“So we can go home now?” He asked, still breathing hard even though Keith’s breathing had evened out a few minutes ago on their cool down.

“Drink some water first,” Keith said pulling out the water bottles he’d brought with them in his running pack. Lance grabbed it eagerly, and they started down the path leading out of the park, drinking as they went. It was an easy walk back home, and though the wind was picking up the sun was still shining bright - and at just the right angle to hit Keith right in the eyes. He squinted a bit, tilting his head to try to rid himself of the glare, and was faced with the realization that the sun was also at just the right angle to highlight Lance’s profile, edging his nose and chin in the lightest of bright highlights, and to put a shimmer in his eyes and- look, Keith knew his boyfriend was gorgeous. This was a fact he lived with daily but it was also a fact that hovered in the back of his mind normally, somewhere, until a moment like  _ this _ popped up and he was faced with the reality of it full force. 

And he felt a little awkward all of a sudden, like there  _ he _ was, walking hand in hand with the prettiest guy in  _ at least _ the city, if not the entire state, back to the home where they lived  _ together _ because they were dating and stuff. This was his life, for real, this pretty boy with his easy smile and mischievous eyes and a heart too big for his own good was with  _ him _ \- and there Keith was, torturing him with hour long runs around the park for no reason other than because he could.

That was horrible. He was horrible, and probably also the cause of the tired frown that Lance was sporting. He looked exhausted, and Keith felt guilty because that was his fault, pushing him so hard. Lance was probably going to be aching for days because of this and he was probably not even going to complain about it because of his stupid pride so Keith wouldn’t even know how bad he was feeling.  _ Fuck _ . Keith hated the thought, and he hated seeing Lance look even a little bit sad, so he started to wrack his brain to think of a way to make the day end on a better note. 

Thankfully, something came to him, and he stopped in his tracks, pulling Lance to a stop.

“What?” Lance asked, turning with a questioning and slightly irritated look on his face.

“Let’s go this way,” Keith said, tugging him towards the corner. 

“Uh, but home’s that’s way?” Lance replied, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder. 

“I know, I wanna show you something.”

“Oh, really?” Lance eyed him critically as they stopped at the crosswalk. “It’s not more running, is it?”

“I said no more running already, didn’t I?” Keith rolled his eyes, then turned to check that no cars were coming. “Come on, let’s go.”

He could see Lance still eyeing him suspiciously as they crossed the street, but he followed along as Keith led on without any more complaints. They headed down the street a couple blocks before turning to take one back to the main street in what Keith hoped was the right place. He was pretty sure he’d gotten the distance right, he usually was good with stuff like that, and his attention to those sorts of details paid off when he found what he was looking for only a few yards down the street from them.

“Here, check it out,” He said, grinning at Lance as they approached. 

Lance’s eyes lit up when he saw what they stood in front of - a brand spanking new froyo shop. “Grand Opening” posters still hung in the windows, decorated in candy colors and cartoonish fruits and froyo cups.

“How did I miss  _ this _ ?” Lance gasped, looking far more alive than he had just a few moments before, “It’s like two blocks from our house!”

“I know, I don’t think we got a flyer or anything for it,” Keith said, pulling the door open and letting Lance in first. “I saw it a few days ago when I was coming back from work and forgot about it like, immediately.”

“Keith, oh my god,  _ Keith _ ,” Lance tugged at his hand with barely contained excitement. “We have to try  _ everything _ .”

“Uh, no.”

“ _ Look _ \- they have like fifteen flavors!” 

Lance was absolutely overdoing the excitement, Keith thought, but he couldn’t even care because at least Lance was grinning and happy and that was worth the odd looks some of the other customers were giving them. Keith was almost tempted to ask them at what age, exactly, were people supposed to stop getting excited for dessert but managed to tamp that impulse down.

“Okay, where are the fruit flavors?” Lance asked, possibly talking to himself, as he let Keith’s hand go so he could walk up and down the line of froyo nozzles. Keith let him do his thing, turning instead to the counter and picking up a couple of the self-serve cups. He turned back to find Lance peering over the heads of a few girls crowding one of the nozzles, looking lost in deep concentration as he stared at the froyo label on the wall. 

“Find something you want?” Keith asked as he walked up to him, dodging a couple more people headed towards the cashier. There were a lot more people in the shop than he’d been expecting - maybe the place was still offering some grand opening sale or something.

“I’m trying to decide whether I want to risk the pi ñ a colada froyo, or just stick with mixing a couple of the fruity ones,” Lance finally noticed that Keith was poking him with one of the cups and took it from him. “What do you think?”

“You’re asking me about pi ñ a colada?” Keith replied, quirking an eyebrow. Lance sighed, eyes closing for a moment. 

“I forgot, you’re a heathen.”

“I’m not a  _ heathen _ ,” Keith snorted, shifting to let the girls step away from the nozzle. “I just don’t like coconut.”

Lance turned to him, a deviously sweet smile on his face, “Like I said,  _ heathen _ .”

“Shut up and pick out your froyo already,” Keith gave him a shove and stepped past to the other flavors. He wasn’t feeling the fruit flavors that day, so he decided on the vanilla cake froyo with a little bit of the brownie fudge batter. Lance ended up with a mix of raspberry-pomegranate and mango froyo with a dash of the pina colada on top, and they headed to the toppings counter. Keith piled on the tiny caramel filled turtles, because how could he not, while Lance debated between the three boba flavors. 

“It cannot be that hard to pick one, Lance,” Keith groaned, watching his froyo melt  _ even more _ while his boyfriend just stared at the boba containers.

“I’m trying to decide what’s gonna complement the froyo flavors, okay?” 

“Complement my ass.” Keith muttered, and before Lance held up the line for toppings any longer he pushed him aside and scooped a spoonful of each of the flavors into his cup.

“ _ Keith _ ,” Lance hissed, pushing his way back to his cup, “You’re a  _ demon _ why are you like this?”

“They’re all good flavors, just eat them,” Keith returned Lance’s glare with an impassive look of his own as he motioned at the counter, “Look, there’s fruit. You can make it even fruitier.”

“And  _ you _ can just, stop...doing. Things, Just stop,” Lance held his froyo cup close to himself, making sure to keep his back to Keith as he sidled over to the fruit section.

They finally finished with the toppings and paid for their snacks, getting a BOGO discount thanks to the grand opening celebration, and Lance had settled down about the boba once he’d given each flavor a try and decided that they went with his froyo flavors after all.

“They’re all fruit flavors,” Keith said, picking out a neon orange spoon from the spoon holder. “Of course they’re going to go with your fruit flavored froyo.”

“Look, I’m not going to argue with you about this because, first of all, you have no taste so how would you even know?” Lance said, “And second, my froyo is melting and I’d like to eat it while it still has solid form. Speaking of which, you just wanna eat here?”

“Sure.” Keith licked some froyo off of his spoon and followed Lance past the full tables to the relatively open window counter and sat on the barstool chairs. Cars rushed by on the busy main street, and Keith zoned out a little as he watched them speed past, savoring the taste of dessert before dinner. 

“Hey, so,” Lance’s voice snapped him out of his trance, and he turned to him as Lance continued to speak, “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” Keith replied, and Lance gave him a sour look

“Stop it,” He kicked at Keith’s ankle, “I mean, a for-real question.”

“Sure.”

“What do you do with your tax return?”

That...wasn’t a question Keith was expecting to be asked, probably ever. He looked at Lance, a bit confused, to find him waiting for an answer with an expectant look on his face.

“I, uh,” Keith was not blanking on this, he knew what he did every year, “I do that direct deposit thing so it goes into my savings?”

“Hm,” Lance sighed, gaze turning back to look out the window. “Yeah.”

‘Why?” Keith asked, wondering what it was that brought up this topic. “What do you do with yours?”

“Mine would usually go to paying bills and rent and stuff, you know?” Lance scooped up another spoonful of froyo, but he didn’t move it from above his bowl. “But this year, like, I got more back because of working at the store all year, so… I mean, I thought I could do something with it, but I think you have the better idea.”

Now, Keith didn’t always pick up on subtext. He was kind of horrible at it if he wasn’t paying careful attention to people, and he was becoming more and more aware of this fact the longer he lived with Lance because  _ so much  _ of their interactions involved subtext for some reason. But right then, he got the very distinct impression that Lance believed his whole direct deposit set up was because of some sort of grown up super smart decision to save for the future and crap like that, and that Lance’s own want to do something for himself was somehow immature and...and that was quite a bit from the truth. Pretty far from it, actually. 

And Keith didn’t really like owning up to his own faults all that often - he really, really hated knowing he had them and would’ve preferred not to be aware of them - but this was  _ his boyfriend _ and he didn’t want Lance to have the wrong idea about something if it was going to make him feel bad about himself.

So he took a deep breath, mixed his froyo a little with his spoon as he mentally prepared the words he was going to say, and turned to Lance to explain himself,

“I’m shit at money.”

“ _ Keith _ ,” Lance snorted, looking some odd mix of a little bit perturbed but mostly amused. “There’s  _ kids _ in here!”

“Oops,” Keith looked over his shoulder to find that there were, in fact, kids at the table right behind them, looking over at him with amused grins. Their parents didn’t look as amused, and Keith quickly turned back to Lance, avoiding their gazes. “Uh, anyways, I mean- I’m bad with finances and budgets and stuff.”

“O-kay?” Lance looked a little puzzled, though Keith wasn’t sure if it was because Lance had already noticed it, or if he hadn’t and was genuinely confused about what Keith was telling him.

“I don’t do the direct deposit because it’s...frugal, or smart, or whatever,” Keith frowned at himself - when had he ever used the word  _ frugal _ before? “I do it because if I didn’t I’d just spend it all on stupid stuff without really thinking about it. That’s what I used to do before Pidge found out and explained shi- stuff to me.”

Lance laughed a little at his slip, and he looked like he was going to comment but Keith pressed on before he could.

“But you’re a lot better at this stuff, with like budgeting and all of that. And I know you have savings set aside, and - and you’ve worked hard like all year long, you deserve to treat yourself at least a little bit.”

Lance looked thoughtful at that, licking the froyo from his spoon slowly, “I guess.”

It was stupid how  _ Lance _ that response was. Why couldn’t he be obnoxiously full of himself right then, instead of half an hour ago in the park?

“What about that fancy gun range you like so much?” Keith offered, remembering a conversation they’d had before. Keith wasn’t entirely a fan of shooting or gun ranges, it’d never really been his thing, but Lance was all about it. “You said it cost too much for a single visit to go just whenever, and you haven’t been to one in like...forever.”

The thought perked Lance right up, and he turned to Keith, bright eyed with excitement.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s a great idea!” He beamed so brightly it made Keith’s eyes hurt, “I could do a year’s membership and I’d still have money left over to put into my savings!”

“See,” Keith grinned, pleased to see that he’d been able to cheer Lance up.

“You’re a genius babe,” Lance leaned over to kiss him, quick and easy, and even though it was barely anything it was still enough to make Keith’s heart thump a little quicker and leave him just a little warmer than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, if you'd like. I know it felt like filler? but filler can be good. I hope it was good enough for you. Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed and will come back for the next installment! :) Please let me know what you think!!


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